


Purity (Or Lack Thereof)

by Chamomile



Series: A Moment in Time [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamomile/pseuds/Chamomile
Summary: Every once in a while, Merlwyb’s mind wanders off…to people and to things she wishes she could have. (Part of the 'Moment in Time' series, as a prequel to the first installment.)





	Purity (Or Lack Thereof)

She is in the stateroom, looking at a document of some kind, the lines at the bottom empty, waiting for the signature, her signature, the signature of the Admiral that could turn ideas into reality—but she was looking, and not reading. Her eyes couldn’t keep themselves still, they wandered off to the banners lining the room, or the rays of pure, afternoon sunlight that crept quietly into her office without her knowing. The cries of the gulls were soft, muffled by the windows, but distracting nonetheless. Had she the energy to do so, she’d go out and shoot them, every last one, until only the waves against the rocks could be faintly heard, and she could finally focus.

Merlwyb mentally slaps herself in the face, throwing her eyes back onto the parchment that still lacks her signature. It had been ten minutes, ten long, grueling minutes, and yet she hadn’t the slightest idea of what this document even was. She can’t be stuck on it all day, she knows; a lack of sleep is no excuse to keep gawking at a piece of paper…

She admits to herself at that moment: she couldn’t sleep last night. She lay there in her bed, exhausted, wishing for sleep, but it never did come to her. Her heart was beating too fast, her chest too tight to fall into slumber. This is new to her, and already she hates it. Losing sleep over a few extra meetings, things to be done for Limsa Lominsa…that was all well and good. That was normal. That was life.

It is only when she is given that extra time to sleep does she squander it away on petty anxieties, on racing thoughts, on _her_. One year had come and gone since the last time Merlwyb saw her, one year since she decided to distance herself from the Elder Seedseer, from everything to do with her, her laughter, her words of encouragement, the way she could smile with only her eyes, the way it felt to have her tiny hand in the Admiral’s…

What a disgrace for an Admiral to have fallen so low. Defeated the mightiest of pirates, she did, defeated the Garleans at the gate, rebuilt an entire city from ruins…Yes, what a disgrace for Merlwyb to _be_ defeated, to have succumbed to the threat that had been right next to her for four years. That is why she asks forgiveness, so she can turn away from that woman, so neither of them will be hurt. Or so she thinks. She thinks it will be fine.

But now she is a disgrace to her own word. In her mind, she is no more than a mewling, lovelorn fool who can barely sleep at night, regretting her decision. But she would stand firm…she would stand firm _here_ , that is. In her mind, she is a fool…and perhaps she will stay that way. No one else can see her there but herself, lest she choose to imagine someone else.

…Lest she choose to imagine Kan-E.

And then she is there.

She is standing there, her very image, her determination, her smile. They are standing there together, in some space she can’t very well recognize; everything is blurred but them. The illusion of the Elder Seedseer runs up to her, _“I have waited for you,”_ it says, its tone so very sobering.

Merlwyb entwines her fingers with this illusion’s—no, with Kan-E’s. She is surprised to see the Admiral doing something like that “here”, wherever the two of them happened to be. The background was still space, still color. But Merlwyb has a realization in that moment: this is her mind, she can do whatever it is she likes and no one will question it but her.

That is when she conjures up a bedroom. Kan-E’s. She’s seen it once, does her best to try and remember every little detail, does her best to try and picture Kan-E there with her…

And Kan-E’s hair is down. Merlwyb doesn’t mean to recall it like that, but perhaps because she associates her unkempt hair with the bedroom, with the memory of placing her there and watching her sleep so soundly as bunches of sun-kissed blonde fell and flowed behind her.

They are sitting on the bed, simply chatting, the two of them. Merlwyb doesn’t let it last long. Another touch on the hand, a heartfelt apology she’s tried to imagine a thousand times but can never get entirely right…but she is forgiven. Really, truly forgiven. And, even better, Kan-E wants to do the same things to Merlwyb as Merlwyb wants to do to her. Nothing is stopping them. They are here, in this hidden little corner of the Admiral’s mind, on the train of thought less traveled.

In this odd little fantasy, this image, Kan-E speaks to her again, her head raised to the taller woman, face somewhat flushed as she requests:

_“Merlwyb…I want to touch you.”_

And Merlwyb does not hesitate to grant her such a wonderful request, such a lovely request, a request she’s wanted to hear for far too long. And she can imagine her voice, the calm, the quiet strength of it…

A caress, an embrace, a kiss here and there…and her mind can no longer control where this is going. Everything begins to disappear into the image, her shoes, her coat, Kan-E’s garments…they bear everything to each other. She can see the pale, untouched skin, the small, fitting curves on her body, her tiny breasts unhidden…

And without the jewelry, without a staff, without a robe or little trinkets keeping her hair up, she is no longer the Elder Seedseer, she is no longer bound by a title or responsibility, she is pure, she is Kan-E-Senna, she is everything Merlwyb never knew she wanted until she fell in love. She is Merlwyb’s and Merlwyb is hers.

_“Am I…pleasing to you?”_ she asks. But Merlwyb doesn’t have to answer, because this is her mind, this is her turf, Kan-E just asks the question because she is hesitant and because Merlwyb knows her beautiful would-be-lover would be hesitant here, in this image of a bedroom somewhere in the recesses of her mind. She craves it all the more, this feeling, this ability to conquer Kan-E-Senna, to keep her begging for more. Kan-E-Senna, who, not a soul has been able to conquer, no, not until her, not until admiral Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn, who was conquered first, who picked that Padjal up from the ashes and cared for her and loved her and watched her bloom into the most beautiful woman Hydaelyn had ever seen.

Their bodies curve into each other’s as they become ever closer, and Merlwyb can _hear_ it, she hears Kan-E’s quivering breaths, her quiet little cries as the Admiral finds a delicate spot of hers and quiets her by pressing her lips against the Padjal’s unsteady ones in a gentle kiss, moving her arms down her tiny, slender body and feeling the heat, the softness of everything.

(The real Merlwyb’s face heats up, her heart is pounding, she should really be reading over that paper, but this image in her head is too vivid to simply discard, no…she won’t let it go, she won’t.)

_“Please…”_ she can hear Kan-E cry out, _“Merlwyb, please…!”_ And Merlwyb knows she wants everything right then and there…and she gives it freely, letting her lips move down, slowly, to Kan-E’s flushed neck, to her breast, to her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her—

There is a slamming of a door, and a drop of blood on the document, and everything is gone, hidden too well for Merlwyb to ever find again.

“Ah, Admiral!”

It is Slafyrsyn. She makes a mental note to scold him later, for reasons he probably won’t understand.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but the mailmoogle just arrived—you have a letter from General Raubahn and her Grace the Sultana…er.”

Merlwyb looks at her Marshal questioningly, and asks him why he looks as if he’s just seen a ghost.

“Your nose, Admiral…it’s, ah…bleeding.” 

She orders him to go fetch her a tissue or something. She takes the letter in the meantime and reads it, more focused than ever, and, of course, trying to cover her bloody nose.

_“To the distinguished Admiral of Limsa Lominsa, Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn_

_The Sultanate invites you to the royal celebration of Sultana Nanamo Ul Namo’s twentieth nameday. The pleasure of your company is requested on the twenty-fourth sun of the third Umbral Moon. Accommodations will be provided.”_

There is a large, handwritten footnote on the back, clearly in the Flame General’s scrawl:

_“Kan-E will be there. I think it is time.”_

She wonders in passing if daydreams can come true, and goes back to reading her original document— _reading_ , and not just looking.

She has a feeling she will sleep well tonight.


End file.
